


Puppy Kisses

by aquabluejay, Pinfeathers (aquabluejay)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Culture, Gen, OT3, We Just Love Each Other, alien habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquabluejay/pseuds/aquabluejay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquabluejay/pseuds/Pinfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has some unusual habits and his companions aren't sure what to make of them. Adjusting to life in the TARDIS, what you didn't see between scenes during season five. Includes post Pandorica Doctor H/C. Mostly quirky fluff, not smut. Spoilers through 5x13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do write something revolving around the fact that the Doctor is an alien, and though he doesn't show it that often, there have to be more, (and probably awkward) quirks that show up when you live with him. So here's a story about one of them, and how the Ponds learn to live with it.

              The first time, she had to admit, she was surprised but rather too wrapped up in the moment, her own still reeling emotions and adrenalin to really notice. She was aware of the gesture, but at the same time, didn’t really register is as she stood there, amidst the thrill of victory. It was not until later, when they had parted from each other’s reassuring embrace and were safely onboard the TARDIS that she had a moment to think on it.

 

The Doctor was presumably still in the console room, piloting them through the vortex, while she had gone in search of a room somewhere in the impossibly huge interior of the ship, which he had assured her would provide her with something adequate. She was further distracted with giggling glee when she opened the door at the end of a hall and discovered the room the ship had apparently prepared for her, and even more so when she discovered the adjoining bathroom and it’s spacious shower.

It wasn’t until halfway through a wonderfully long and steamy shower that she had a chance to think back over the events of the day, particularly the end. Her fingers brushed over the back of her left shoulder, just below her neck.

 

              “Wait a moment… He _licked_ me?!”

 

              Indeed she realized slowly that he had. As they embraced, wrapped in joy and sadness but mostly relief, the Star Whale had been spared, the Starship UK saved, and they were still riding out the emotional shock waves of it all. She had felt his hands trembling slightly against her back as he wrapped his arms around her, returning her embrace. They’d held each other for a moment and then he had dipped his head next to hers to settle his chin against her shoulder. But somewhere in the middle of the gesture, he had flicked his tongue against the exposed skin at the back of her collar.

 

              Well that was… New. She considered the fact that she’d been in her nightie, and that he’d made no further move in that direction. Finally she resolved to wait and see what his next move was, not entirely sure how she felt about her imaginary friend coming onto her. If indeed he had been. When she returned to the control room they were of course already being whisked off to world war two, and thrown into another life or death adventure which left little time for, well the sort of thing Amy had been thinking about….

 

When they’d saved the world, (for the second time that day) from the Daleks, disarming the bomb that had been rigged to blow in the android professor’s chest, he had kissed her. He had kissed her, but not as Amy would have expected him to, and it threw her once again. After the _lick_ she’d have expected a kiss for saving the world would be long and sensual, or at least _on the lips_. The kiss she received from the doctor however, was none of these things. It was quite in contrast to her expectations, chaste and placed in a rather paternal way on her forehead. Amy was just confused then. How did the Doctor see her?

 

“Stupid alien sending mixed signals.”

 

She’d confronted him about it in the TARDIS when they’d bid Churchill goodbye. He’d looked quite helpless she’d thought, completely mystified as to what she was on about as he was backed up against the console.

 

              “Who, me?” He’d said incredulously, and she’d begun to realize the he wasn’t just playing coy, but that he really didn’t know. He didn’t know what he was doing, how he was confusing her. She pressed her advantage, accusing him of being “a bloke and not knowin’ it.” She even had her fun with him, getting the TARDIS to display all visual records of his past companions. He grumbled to his ship and eventually retreated deeper into the hallways of the TARDIS.

 

              The Doctor had reemerged from the depths of the TARDIS back to his bouncy, energetic self, earlier apparently forgotten. He landed the TARDIS and set off to show her the wonders of the museum they had landed in. Their leisurely trip was of course quickly interrupted, although not quickly enough for Amy, who had been becoming quite bored with the Doctor’s rambling, disjointed corrections of obscure historical facts of events, most of which hadn’t happened until centuries after her time anyway.

 

By the end of the day of course, she wished she’d settled for the museum. Instead she’d gotten the terror of the Weeping Angles. Although despite it all that, it had been enlightening to meet River Song- whoever she might be to the Doctor. Amy certainly had her theories, with which she teased the Doctor mercilessly.

 

              Under the lingering influence of adrenalin and other numerous hormones left in the aftermath of their harrowing adventure, she’d gone and done something she ought to regret and yet found she did not. She’d kissed the Doctor soundly on his bewildered lips, and she would have gone a fair bit farther, but he had pushed her off (he’d had to more than once in fact), gently but firmly and refused her advances.

 

It was only when he left to go retrieve Rory and she was left alone, that she once more got to thinking and came to a surprising realization about the doctor. He hadn’t rejected her advances simply on principal, (she was getting married tomorrow after all), and he simply wasn’t interested in her like that at all. This revelation left her feeling simultaneously both slightly insulted and flattered. No one likes to discover that someone isn’t sexually attracted to them, but at the same time she was flattered and just a bit relieved that if he wasn’t interested in her that way, he must truly value her in others.

 

              “Okay, so what’s with the _licking_?” Amy sighed aloud in bemused exasperation. There was no answer from her empty bedroom, but she could have sworn the light on top of the TARDIS parked at the foot of her bed pulsed a bit, and she almost felt a kind of tickling at the edge of her consciousness. There was an indistinct sort of sensation associated with it, like bubbles, and wind chimes. Amy shook herself and reaffirmed that she was alone, wondering for the dozenth time exactly _how_ alive the TARDIS really was.

 

              They’d collected Rory and gone to Venice, the Doctor’s treat, and of course encountered more aliens and another world ending plot. Amy’s heart was in her throat when he collapsed after being electrocuted by the booby trapped door. She’d stayed close to him the whole time he’d been unconscious as they’d carried him back to Isabella’s Father’s home. Rory had pronounced him breathing, and still alive, but looked alarmed and confused when he felt for a pulse.

 

              “Amy, come here and feel this. Just so I’m sure I’m not losing my mind,” the nurse had said to her, moving aside so that she could kneel beside the Doctor’s prone form, laid out on the medieval bed. Rory guided her fingers to where his had been, at the pulse point in the Doctor’s neck. He let go of her hand and she felt for his pulse for a few seconds before her eyes widened. She may not have been a nurse like her fiancé, but she knew enough about first aid to know that _that_ was not what someone’s pulse was supposed to feel like.

 

 Plucking a still worryingly limp wrist from where it rested atop his chest which rose and fell with reassuring regularity, she sought his pulse there instead. She felt the same bizarre double pulse there as she had in his neck.

 

              The whole time Rory had been yammering on about all the things that could cause such an effect, and a litany of possible complications that could arise as a result. Amy had tuned most of it out, partly because Rory was babbling with a substantial volume of annoyingly technical medical terms thrown in, and partly because none of the if’s sound particularly pleasant, and the ones she did  recognize made her more anxious than she was ready to admit. Amy carefully laid the Doctor’s wrist down alongside his body on the bed and fixed her attention back on her fiancé and asked him frankly what they could do about any of it.

 

              “Nothing that I’m aware of, not here in medieval Venice, and nothing I’d be qualified to do even in a fully equipped hospital,” Rory muttered, as he timed the Doctor’s pulse with his wrist watch. “It’s almost like, well… It sounds almost like he’s got-“

 

              “Two hearts,” Amy cut him off. Seeking the source of the double beat (Not double beat as in lub-dub, mind you. The Doctor’s pulse sounded like lub-lub-dub-dub. Oh no, not a human sound at all,) she had laid both her hands on his chest, palms splayed on either side in sudden inspiration. Beneath each hand she discovered she could feel a complete, separate heartbeat.

 

Rory’s eyes widened incredulously at her statement and regaining herself she cocked an eyebrow slightly. “What, you didn’t actually think he was human? I mean, what was the first tip off, the space ship that’s bigger on the inside, or the fish custard?” Here Rory performed a mildly impressive impression of a gold fish for a moment or two before acknowledging lamely, “Well, yeah… I guess…Oh.”

 

He thought about all the things Amy had described the Doctor doing, and all the things he’d seen the bow tie wearing man do in what little time he’d known him. “Well, I guess the space-ship-thing was a bit of a giveaway.” Rory received one of Amy’s patented, “Oh Really” looks for his answer before they were distracted by a voice from the bed.

 

              “The _TARDIS_ is neither a “thing” nor technically a “Space ship,” and she’d be quite insulted if called either to her face.”

 

              The startled couple looked down into the depthless green-hazel gaze of the Time Lord, which was focused just over their shoulders in the manner of someone who was giving a lecture to the room at large. He met each of their gazes steadily as he flashed them a reassuring smile with his head still resting on the pillow.

 

              At the end of the day, when they had escaped the vampires, and stopped the fish-alien-things that the vampires turned out to actually be, they returned to the TARDIS smiling with relief and the lingering euphoric effects of escaping certain death. They bounded into the control room and up the steps to the center platform.

 

Rory started up the second flight of steps that led to the interior rooms of the TARDIS. He stopped and turned around waiting for Amy to follow him. He was exhausted, not yet adapted to all the running-for-your-life like Amy was. Bellow him on the central platform, Amy was going around the console, vibrating with energy, right alongside the Doctor.

 

              They converged at one side of the hexagonal console, nearly slamming into each other in their excitement. The Doctor grabbed her hands and pulled her closer and then, to Rory’s utter shock and mounting horror, he gently licked to side of her neck. Rory’s jaw dropped open as Amy smiled fondly and shot him one of her patented “shut it Rory” glances. Rory’s jaw clapped reflexively shut.

 

The Doctor had spun away from Amy and resumed his waltzing, skipping, pacing around the console, blissfully unaware of the nonverbal communication of his companions.

 

              Amy glanced back at the Doctor, now thoroughly engrossed in flipping switches and pulling levers as he wound his way around the console. She smiled fondly at his back as he spun by once more, before she crossed the clear floor to the steps where Rory waited. His mouth was shut, but his jaw was tense and his expression was a turbulent mixture of anger, upset, betrayal, disbelief, and resignation.

 

Amy placed her hand on his arm and steered him up the last steps and out of the console room. She shut the door and led him down the hall and into the third door on the left, which she was fairly confident would be the Kitchen. It was, but before Amy enjoyed her mental victory dance at having gotten it right on the first try, Rory brushed off her arm and spun her around to face him.

 

              “What the bloody hell what _that_?!” he demanded, gesturing violently towards the door in the general direction of the console room.  “We’re due to be _married_ tomorrow if I recall correctly! What are you doing fooling around like that?! I mean he just- And you just… Argh!” Rory spluttered himself out, yanking on his short blond hair in agitation.

 

              “Rory!” Amy commanded, grabbing his left hand away from his head, lacing her fingers with his as she pulled his hand between them. She placed her free hand on his cheek and slowly leaned in close, looking him straight in the eye. “I love you. I’m marrying you when we get home, and _nothing_ , come hell or high water will change that. The Doctor is my friend, _our_ friend. You can’t just go getting jealous about everything little thing. Flattering though it is, it’s also bloody annoying!”

 

              “But he _licked_ you!” Rory protested, stopping himself just short of stamping his foot in irritation like a child throwing a tantrum.

 

              “Exactly, he _licked_ me. Not like he kissed me or anything,” Amy stressed.

 

              “Well yeah, that’s a bit, well, suggestive isn’t it?!” Rory shot back incredulously. He was beginning to wonder exactly what kind of conversation this was turning into. Why did everything always turn out so weird lately? Here he was listening to his fiancé explain to him why he shouldn’t be upset that she had just had her neck licked by another man. He couldn’t even have a normal sounding _row_ for Christ’s sake.

 

              “But it’s not,” Amy explained patiently. “Look Rory, he isn’t human, alright, we both know that.” Rory opened his mouth to comment that the “Other man” being an alien really didn’t make the whole situation any better, but she cut him off, taking the hand from his face to wave it in warning in front of them. “Before you start, would you just listen, OK? He isn’t Human, he looks like he is but you’ve seen, felt,” she placed her hand over his heart for emphasis, “the differences on the inside. For all he acts like, he wasn’t brought up in Leadworth, or south London, anywhere in Britain, or even anywhere on Earth! It’s a cultural thing, I think, something from his home, or maybe he picked up in his travels. Hell, for all we know, it might be common in the rest of the universe.”

 

              “You think…” Rory pointed out skeptically.

 

              “Well it’s not as if I’ve _asked_! Hey doctor, do they lick people on your home planet or is that just you? Oh wait, you said you were the last Time Lord, do you _have_ a planet anymore?” Rory took a moment to process this information, looking for a suitable response. None came immediately to him; instead he felt a heavy settling in his gut as Amy’s words finally sunk in.

 

              “He’s the last?” Rory’s voice had dropped from shouting to soft. Whatever else, Rory _was_ a nurse and a good one at that.

 

              Amy nodded solemnly taking his hands in hers again having thrown them down to gesticulate during her tirade. His compassionate nature and his nurse’s instincts swelled within his breast. “Oh,” was all he found he could say to that, and they both knew it was woefully inadequate.

 

(After Amy’s Choice)

 

When the Dream lord had gone and they were all relieved, but tensions were still running high. The Doctor was smiling that smile of his that was obviously meant to tell everyone that everything was fine, although not particularly convincingly. Amy saw right through it of course and when she broke away from snogging her fiancé she went over to him and asked again if he was OK. His fringe fell across his face and his shoulders slumped just a tiny bit, and his body language practically screamed the lie at her as he assured her that he was, “always allright.” When he flashed her that same unconvincing smile, the tightness around his eyes simply confirmed that he most certainly was not. She studied him for a moment as he fiddled distractedly with the controls, obviously attempting to ignore her scrutiny. She wondered how many of his traveling companions had seen that smile, and how many had walked away.

 

              “C’mere you,” she said, quirking her lips into a reassuring half smile, and throwing her arms wide. He straightened up and eyed her apprehensively. She gestured with her chin and fluttered her fingers for him to come closer. He hesitated a moment more before stepping into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around him in a friendly hug which he returned. Amy squeezed his waist affectionately, holding him close until she felt him lower his face into the crook of her shoulder and lap tentatively at her neck. She let him go and he backed off, going back over to the console again to resume fiddling, although with more purpose this time. Amy gave him his space and went up the stairs and out of the console room to join Rory deeper in the TARDIS.

 

(The Big Bang)

 

Everything had fallen apart, gone from bad to worse all evening. At first there had been the aliens whizzing all about. Next there had been the revelation that he wasn’t really human at all, but some kind of artificial person made of plastic. Then things had taken a turn in the direction of unimaginably horrible when he had _shot_ Amy.

 

              Finally though, things were well, if not exactly looking up yet, (Amy was dead,) but there was a slim and tantalizing hope on the horizon: The Doctor. He had reappeared in a flash, literally. He’d sent Rory’s already turbulent emotions reeling, first in the name of “testing Rory’s humanity,” and then with his declaration that they could save her. His odd disappearing and reappearing had been rather disconcerting as well, to say nothing of the comments he’d dropped during the encounter.

 

              Rory had followed the Doctor’s instructions, pointing the sonic screwdriver at the dark box and pressing the first button he came to after some fumbling. Luckily, whatever he’d done seemed to do the trick and the Pandorica opened for the second time that night. Rory was slightly disconcerted to find the Doctor _inside_ the Pandorica, when he’d just been speaking to him above ground, but took it in stride.

 

              The Doctor seemed shocked, but not unpleased to see him, although he seemed slightly dazed at first. His first question to Rory, “How did you do that?” sounded rather lost and a bit raspy. He seemed to rapidly regain focus, pulling out his own sonic screwdriver to demonstrate to Rory that he still had it, and therefore couldn’t possibly have given it to him. The restraints which held the Doctor immobile inside had swung open, releasing him fully. Rory noticed that when he rose from the seat he’d been forced into, he did so without making any further contact with the metal surfaces, as if repelled by them. Rory’s nurse’s instinct processed these signs of distress automatically, also spotting the paleness of the Time Lord’s skin and the fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

 

              “Amy, where’s Amy?” the Doctor had asked, and suddenly he’d become quite unsteady. He’d kept it together for a few minutes there, bandying about with Rory about the “total event collapse of the universe,” as he’d said. However, it quickly became apparent to the young nurse that the Doctor had been running on the adrenalin rush of being released, and much like a windup toy, released from someone’s grasp, he had rapidly run down.

 

              Rory stepped forward and caught him by the shoulder when he abruptly began to list to one side, proving to be as unsteady on his feet as he had looked sitting in his restraints. The nurse steadied him as he took another faltering step. The Doctor stumbled and Rory let him slide slowly to the ground, easing him down carefully to sit slumped on the stone floor. Performing a cursory examination of the Doctor, the Nurse noted that while the Alien pulse was still inscrutable as ever, it seemed as though it might be slightly elevated, he was still pale and shaky, but was visibly controlling his breathing, measuring it back down to a more natural pattern. With his fingers pressed against the Doctor’s wrist, Rory could feel the almost imperceptible trembling that ran through the Time Lord’s body.

 

              He moved around so that he could made eye contact, capturing the widened, hazel-green eyes, which he realized with a sudden pang, were shining, rimmed with tears.

 

              “Doctor, are you OK?” Rory intoned, keeping his voice carefully level. There was a pause in which the Doctor swallowed thickly before answering. “OK…? Oh…. Oh, yes!” he said, sounding confused at first, but brightening as he seemed to grasp what Rory meant. “OK. Yes, I’m always alright,” he repeated, finishing by blinking furiously and abruptly sitting up straighter. He took in his surroundings briefly with quick little snaps of his head and darting eyes, reorienting himself. He raised one hand slowly, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and abruptly sprang into action. He pushed himself to his feet and paced the room once, back and forth. Coming back to stop directly in front of Rory, as usual, having apparently no concept of what a respectful amount of personal space was. The Doctor set off a rapid-fire string of questions, ranging from what had happened to Amy to what he’d had for breakfast the day he’d proposed to her. The questions were fired off with no apparent order and many with seemingly no relevance to anything at all, but Rory did his best to answer each one that the Doctor sent his way until his inquisitor abruptly wheeled about, pacing the room once more, muttering to himself in a muddled, mumbled tongue which appeared to only be partially comprised English.

 

              Rory followed him back up, out of the underground and into the moonlight. The Doctor explained his plan to save Amy in a stream of words that seemed to spurt out of him like water from a fountain. The words came trickling down to Rory as he began to form an understanding of what the Doctor was explaining to him, and hope blossomed again in his chest.

 

              They had carried Amy underground, and set her in the open Pandorica. Rory watched as the Doctor leant in to Amy, pressing his forehead to hers and leaving her a message-- their alien friend was telepathic too apparently.

 

              That was when Rory saw the Doctor do it again. He lapped his tongue against the side of her neck before he stepped away from the Pandorica and buzzed his sonic screwdriver at it, shutting it tight. Indignant rage bubbled up inside Rory, despite everything Amy had said before.

 

              “What do you-“ he started angrily, but was cut off as the Doctor pulled him close and gave him the same treatment. Rory shivered slightly at the unfamiliar sensation of an inhumanly cool tongue sliding over his neck. It wasn’t altogether uncomfortable, he supposed. Although the gentle laps tickled a bit, making him want to squirm.

 

              The Doctor let him go just as quickly, bouncing back a step, grinning manically as usual. However, his smile slid off when he saw Rory’s expression, and the human swore he nearly heard the dull slap as it hit the floor. Rory realized his face was still screwed up in anger, frozen there with shock. The Doctor blushed, bowed his head in embarrassment and skittered back. Rory felt a twinge of sympathy for the alien, who’d begun to stutter apologies, still backing away shyly. He thought that he might finally understand what Amy had been trying to tell him before. Despite what he knew it looked like, being on the receiving end he realized that there really was nothing sensual about it. It was affectionate, but innocent, like puppy kisses.

 

              “It’s all right Doctor,” Rory reassured the retreating alien. He threw him his best “reassuring nurse” smile, the same one he gave to children after they’d had a blood sample taken. The Doctor relaxed visibly and seemed to bounce back, as if he were a rubber ball that had rebounded off the far wall. He was moving back towards Rory again and had switched gears once again, the awkwardness of moments ago apparently forgotten completely.

 

              Rory knew he had to stay with the Pandorica. He couldn’t leave Amy. So he argued with the Doctor until his point was conceded, an unheard of victory. With a crackle of energy from the vortex manipulator, the Doctor was gone, leaving Rory alone, with only his thoughts and his task of guarding his beloved.

 

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, joining the festivities of the reception. They’d toasted and danced, although in the Doctor’s case, Amy had conceded at Rory’s cajoling, “Dancing” was a relative term.

 

              After the wedding, they had returned to the TARDIS, the three of them: Husband, wife, and Doctor. Amy leaned out the door and bid Leadworth goodbye. The TARDIS took off and they were off to see the stars. The three of them bumped around the console room as the TARDIS dipped occasionally from side to side, swooping through the vortex to match the delight of its pilot and passengers. The Ponds giggled happily as they were knocked together back onto one of the cushioned benches ringing the center platform.

 

              The Doctor appeared in front of them suddenly, stopping with a tiny slide that looked just a little bit like it might have originally been learned as a dance step. He bent between them and licked the side of Amy’s neck, then turned his had to the other side and licked Rory’s neck too. He stood up again, and bounced once on the balls of his feet, beaming in just that way he did, like a small child. A smile that could meld anyone’s heart.

 

              They smiled back, and the newlywed’s knew that they would never leave the Doctor, _their_ Doctor. No matter how alien he might be at times, or on what planet he’d picked up the idea that licking was a suitable substitute for a hug.

 

 

Finis


End file.
